


But Maybe (Lullaby of Cautious Optimism)

by BooksAsFurniture



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, As Frank Turner so wisely put it: "We can get better because we're not dead yet", Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, No harcest beyond what's canon but the writer is harcest-friendly, PTSD, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Road trip shenanigans, Sibling Bonding, everyone gets the hugs they need
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksAsFurniture/pseuds/BooksAsFurniture
Summary: “So you’re going to… What? Just start refusing to go on missions?” Luther’s eyes flick from Allison to Vanya, and she knows that the question that he’s not asking is ‘And in that case, why issheeven here?’Vanya takes a deep breath and Allison starts to say ‘I heard a rumor that you got through this conversationwithout crying’(because respect for Ben is one thing but Allison’snotBen, she doesn’t have his patience, his accepting nature, she is not and has never aspired to benicein the way he was) but Vanya surprises everyone by saying, “No. Not refusing to go, just gettingout.”Everyone’s looking at Vanya now, so Allison does her the favour of shifting their attention away from her. “Yeah. Vanya’s got it.”ORFollowing Ben's funeral, Allison reflects on her father's advice, comes to her own conclusion about the best way to ensure there's never a next time, and rallies her siblings into doing whatever they need to do in order to protect the family they have left.
Comments: 48
Kudos: 112





	1. The Wisest and Most Accursed Hour of the Clock

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I loved the first season of TUA, it was the ride-or-die Hargreeves dynamics in S2 that really made it for me, and the funeral scene in that final episode left me raging at Reginald and wondering what could would have happened if the siblings had banded together in their grief rather than letting it divide them- Thus, this AU was born.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Today… Yesterday I guess, Dad said something about respect for Ben. What I want to know is, did any of you think about what that would look like? Because _I_ haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and…” Allison pauses for effect. “I can’t come up with anything, OK? The best I can think of is not waiting around until next time, because there absolutely _will_ be a next time.” Allison doesn’t miss the way her brothers and sister shift uncomfortably at this; how could they not have had the same thought? “I’m _done_ ,” she continues. “I think we _all_ need to be done, because if it was me and I knew that Dad was blaming it on the rest of you not caring enough, not _trying_ hard enough, I’d be fucking _furious_.”
> 
> OR
> 
> Allison calls an emergency family meeting.

Allison's used to doing things that she doesn't want to do out of stark necessity, but what she’s learning now is that they’re so much easier when the choice to do them wasn't hers to begin with. Not one of her siblings have spoken a word since assembling in her room for this clandestine, emergency family meeting that she’s insisted on, half-expecting (half-hoping?) that none of them would show up. She might have preferred it if they hadn’t; in that case she could have rested in the knowledge that she’d _tried,_ get angry with them for refusing to cooperate, then move on, unhappy, unsatisfied, and safe in the knowledge that the endeavor had been futile. 

She surveys her brothers and sister from her position on her desk chair, moved to face the center of the room. Klaus has colonised the pile of cushions on her bed, his limbs taking up astonishing amounts of space for someone so lanky. Unlike the others whose silences are twitchy and tense he’s perfectly still, the only indication that he’s awake at all his eyes, wide open, taking in the expanse of ceiling as he frowns to himself. 

Luther and Diego seem to share the objective of maintaining as much physical distance between themselves as possible, Diego sitting on the floor in the corner by the window, Luther next to the door, both resolutely refusing to acknowledge the other’s presence by fixing their gaze on Allison lest they accidentally make eye contact. This wouldn’t bother Allison if it wasn’t for Vanya, also on the floor, caught in the crossfire of her brothers’ animosity as she sits with her back against Allison’s bed. She has nothing to worry about, Allison thinks, they’re too angry with one another to bother with her, but she’s biting her upper lip, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, focusing all of her attention on picking at a loose strand in the carpet.

She’s rehearsed this in her mind for hours; polished what she's going to say until she's sure that there are no rough edges left that might scratch someone’s ego, she can _do_ this, she _can,_ but Diego ruins her opportunity for a compelling opening by saying, “Allison, are you gonna tell us what you want? Because I’m fucking tired, and,” -He looks at a spot on the wall above Luther's head-" _Full_ offense, I don’t really wanna be around any of you right now.”

 _Fucking_ Diego. Of course, of _course_ he’d have to pull something like this, ruining Allison's opening before she's even had a chance to impress anyone with it. She resolves to shift her priorities. Quality of presentation be damned; the time has come to focus on getting this over with. 

“Remember what I said today?” she asks. “About Ben. About it not being our fault.”  
  
In earlier, imagined versions of this scenario, her brothers and sister at least gave active indications that they were willing to listen but here, now, Klaus just keeps staring at the ceiling, Vanya bites her lip harder as she continues worrying the loose carpet thread, Luther closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall, and Diego lets out an exaggerated, derisive sigh.

It would, Allison thinks, be so, so very easy to Rumor them; she could even tell herself that it would be for their own good, but- _Ben,_ she reminds herself. Ben didn’t like her Rumoring her way out of conflicts with their brothers and sister, had always made it clear that he’d thought it cheating, cheap, and that knowledge is _just_ enough to propel her forward without it.

“Today… Yesterday I guess, Dad said something about respect for Ben. What I want to know is, did any of you think about what that would look like? Because _I_ haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and…” Allison pauses for effect. “I can’t come up with anything, OK? The best I can think of is not waiting around until next time, because there absolutely _will_ be a next time.” Allison doesn’t miss the way her brothers and sister shift uncomfortably at this; how could they not have had the same thought? “I’m _done_ ,” she continues. “I think we _all_ need to be done, because if it was me and I knew that Dad was blaming it on the rest of you not caring enough, not _trying_ hard enough, I’d be fucking _furious_.” _This_ is more like how she’d imagined this would go; Allison’s certainty rises until she’s almost shaking with how much she can feel the truth, the _rightness_ of what she’s saying. 

Luther’s the first to respond. “No one’s saying we don’t care enough, Allison, but you’ve got to think about this from Dad’s point of view. Ben would still be here if we had just-”  
  
He’s cut off by the sharp _thwack!_ of a knife lodging in the wall, just behind his ear. 

Diego. _Of-fucking-course_ Diego.

“I heard a rumor,” Allison says preemptively (because she’s tried, really, she’s _tried,_ and it’s not as if she’s using her power on all of them, only the two that are likely to ruin this) “that you both _kept quiet_ so Dad and Mom and Pogo wouldn’t realise we were all in here having this conversation.” She takes a moment to glare at everyone in turn for good measure and notices, then, that Vanya’s eyes are red. Allison hasn’t personally observed her crying today but she clearly has been and the way she’s blinking furiously suggests that she’s about to start once more, as though she can’t handle being in the presence of so much tension even when none of it’s directed at her.  
  
“ _Chill,_ Allison, I can control myself,” Diego says in a whisper, and Allison’s about to say something about the knife in her bedroom wall being a _really_ great example of Diego’s capacity for self-control, but she forgives him just a little when the next thing he says is, “I was gonna say, you’re right. Fuck Dad’s perspective. Ben’s not around to tell us what he would have wanted but I _know_ that it sure as hell wouldn’t be a repeat of today. Maybe Five was the smartest of all of us, taking off when he did.”

This is unexpected, though not unwelcome. Allison's hypotheses about how this could go included Vanya being so grateful to be included that she wouldn’t present any difficulty and Klaus not being much more of a challenge- He’s seemed so withdrawn, lately, so defeated, even before the mission that led to Ben’s death; he’s long past ready to be _done._ Luther, Allison hasn’t been worried about; his determination is always more of a match for her own to start with but experience has taught her that it’s not so very hard to get him to ultimately acquiesce to whatever she pushes for. Diego was always going to be the difficult one, because Diego always _has_ to be the difficult one; he’s so attached to Grace, so fixated on Reginald valuing him as much as he does Luther, so prone to arguing for arguing’s own sake.  
  
Klaus knocks a few cushions off Allison’s bed, sitting up as he says, “‘Hold onto this feeling children’” in a vile caricature of their father, hitting his inflection so perfectly that Allison feels the surge of fury that first arose in response to that obscene excuse for a eulogy flaring again. “‘Let it fester in your hearts so that there is never a next time.’ Yeah, so, about that. I’m _all over_ letting it fester so there’s never a next time. Allison’s right. I’m _done._ ”

“So you’re going to… What? Just start refusing to go on missions?” Luther’s eyes flick from Allison to Vanya, and she knows that the question that he’s not asking is ‘And in that case, why is _she_ even here?’

Vanya takes a deep breath and Allison starts to say ‘I heard a rumor that you got through this conversation _without crying’_ (because respect for Ben is one thing but Allison’s _not_ Ben, she doesn’t have his patience, his accepting nature, she is not and has never aspired to be _nice_ in the way he was) but Vanya surprises everyone by saying, “No. Not refusing to go, just getting _out_.” 

Everyone’s looking at Vanya now, so Allison does her the favour of shifting their attention away from her. “Yeah. Vanya’s got it. That’s exactly it.”

“Not like Vanya’s in danger of dying on a mission no matter what the rest of us do,” Diego mutters. 

“Maybe not, but can you imagine what it’d be like for her if we left her here?” Allison argues. She may not always see the _point_ of her sister but Reginald barely tolerates Vanya as it is and Allison’s not about to become responsible for how much worse things would be for her if all of the children he has a use for took off without her.

  
“Hey asshats?” Klaus asks. “I _think,_ since we’re talking about honoring Ben’s memory and all, he’d probably like it if you _actually_ asked _Vanya_ whether she wants a part in this. If she wants in she should be in, but let it be her choice.”

He’s _right,_ damn him. Allison takes a deep breath, feigning patience for Klaus, for Vanya, that she does not feel. “What _do_ you want, Vanya?” 

  
Vanya doesn’t look at Allison as she answers, but she doesn’t hesitate either. “Like you said. Not this.” She does not elaborate though she doesn’t need to; no matter what anyone does or doesn’t think of Vanya no one envies her position in their family, the Number Seveness of her existence.  
  
“You’re all putting me in a very awkward position.” Allison can tell when Luther’s speaking as Luther, their brother, and when he’s speaking as Number One, their father’s most esteemed protégé, and that he’s doing the latter now brings Allison to the uneasy realisation that he was actively challenging her earlier rather than simply asking for clarification about her intentions; up until this moment she’d allowed herself to hope that she'd simply misunderstood. “I just don’t think you’re thinking about what this would do to Dad. Don’t we have a responsibility? To the world? As the Academy? And as your Number One _I_ have a responsibility to look out for the rest of you, and-”  
  
“No,” Allison interrupts. “ _No_. Not letting what happened to Ben happen to anyone else _is_ our responsibility to one another, Luther. You’re in or you’re not. _I_ want you in but we _will_ do this without you.” She looks around the room. “Agreed?” Everyone, save for Luther, nods.

She suspects that Diego’s probably enjoying this and he confirms it when he mouths, “You’re kinda badass” at her, offering her a thumbs up. Allison grants him a grim smile back- She _is_ kinda badass, and in this moment Diego at least _gets_ that. Before tonight Allison would have said that if she’d had to choose between him and Luther there’d be no choice at all; Diego is her brother, and she loves him but up against Luther he simply wouldn’t factor in as an option. In spite of that, in spite of the weight of _necessity_ that Luther’s presence carries in her life, Allison isn’t going to waste energy explaining that being done with everything includes being done with him being their Number One.  
  
It can’t be that simple, though, because Luther’s not done, and because it’s Luther who knows her more deeply than any of them he also has the tools to cut her down the most efficiently. “Do you even have a _plan,_ Allison? Do you know how to _live_ in the world when you’re not part of the Academy? Are you just going Rumor your way into getting by?” 

This has, in fact, been Allison’s plan to the letter but hearing Luther say it makes it sound ridiculous, childish. She hadn’t prepared an argument for this and she _hates_ that she doesn’t have one but then Diego _-fucking Diego-_ comes to her rescue. “Look, we turn eighteen next year. After that the old man doesn’t have any hold over us so all we’ve gotta do is find somewhere to lay low until then. You think we can’t handle hanging out somewhere, killing time? Pretty sure even Vanya can’t fuck that up.” 

Vanya is far from Allison’s closest sibling but she still recognises when the emotional distance between her sister and whoever else happens to be around begins to expand; there’s no physical gesture that accompanies it but she’s grown up with Vanya, she _knows_ her. She assumes they’ve lost her for the remaining duration of this discussion but then Klaus leans over from his position on Allison’s bed, gently touching Vanya on the shoulder as he says something in her ear, his voice a low, even murmur. Allison can’t make out what’s being said; she thinks she makes out Ben’s name but it’s impossible to be certain and whatever it is seems to stop Vanya from drifting; she nods and turns around to climb up and sit, facing Klaus. He continues to whisper; Vanya says something that sounds like it might be a question and Klaus answers, no more than a single word, then produces a flask from under a nearby pillow. He unscrews the top, drinks, then hands it to Vanya, who takes a sip, motions to pass it back to Klaus, then thinks again and takes a much longer drink before finally relinquishing it. Klaus closes the flask then places his hands on Vanya’s shoulders and then they’re hugging each other and crying and Allison is torn between a surge of resentment at these two wasting time when she’s trying to _accomplish_ something and the stab of shame that comes with the feeling lurking deeper still, the wish that she could be part of whatever this is.

Allison is unaccustomed to being excluded from things whether by design or mere carelessness and she’s promised herself that she won’t cry any more tonight, that she’ll maintain her composure, but watching Vanya and Klaus causes her to just _shatter_ and to her horror ugly, undignified tears begin rolling down her cheeks. She wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her pajamas hoping no one will notice but of _course_ they all do, and Vanya looks at Klaus, who nods, and then back to Allison, and reaches out her hand and says “-Allison? Do you want-?” and she hates that it’s Vanya, _Vanya_ who’s reaching out to _her,_ but suddenly she’s just so, _so_ tired of _thinking_ , and she climbs up next to Vanya and Klaus and they each place an arm around one of her shoulders, drawing her in as though she _does_ belong here, a natural part of their shared grief and their desperate need to receive and provide comfort from one another. Allison wasn’t expecting this to make anything better and it _doesn’t_ (of _course_ it doesn’t), but it does free something in her and she begins sobbing in earnest.

She can’t see Luther getting up to sit beside her but she knows the sound of his footfalls, the gentle, steady feeling of his presence as he settles down on the floor next to her bed as he places a hand on her back. “Hey,” he says.

She manages to stop crying just long enough to say it back.

Luther’s voice is heavy with regret when he says, “You know why I can’t do this, don’t you?” and she shakes her head, no, no, no, she _doesn’t._

“ _Allison,"_ he says, then: “So you’re really going to…?”

“ _Really_.”

Luther sighs. “The best I can do is promise not to try to stop you, but I wish you’d think about this," and then he doesn’t say anything else but he remains where he is, his proximity oh so achingly _temporary._

When Allison looks at Diego she sees that he’s still sitting in his corner, feigning disinterest in the way three of his siblings are clinging to one another and fourth is sitting beside them, his hand on Allison’s back. “Come here,” she orders, nodding to the empty space at the foot of her bed, and to her surprise Diego does as he’s told, sitting half-off the edge of the mattress until Vanya moves to make room for him between herself and Klaus, resting her hand on top of his arm with all of her usual hesitancy. Instead of shaking her off he allows it to remain there, struggles to get out the words “I’m s- I’m sorry. What I said before-” but Vanya cuts him off, shaking her head and saying, “ _L_ _ater_.” She sinks into his cautious hug and Diego’s bravado finally cracks as he begins crying into Vanya’s hair.  
  
One day, Allison will recognise this as the moment that she began to wonder if there might be more to Vanya than she’d appreciated, that her choice to offer kindness and comfort to Diego might indicate its own kind of strength, something that is lovely and mundane and _necessary_. 

That’s later, though. Now, she just sobs, holding onto her siblings and letting herself be held and thinking _Ben, Ben, I will do better, I will be better, I promise, Ben, I promise, I_ _promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Chapter title credit goes to The Blue Castle, a criminally underrated novel by LM Montgomery (mostly known as the writer of Anne of Green Gables). “It was three o'clock in the morning – the wisest and most accursed hour of the clock. But sometimes it sets us free.” The concept of three o'clock in the morning being liberating in its ability to wrench painful realisations out of people who are still awake and desperately want to not be is a recurring theme in her writing.


	2. A New Name For Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking things on faith has never been one of Diego’s strengths and until now, if pressed, he’d have said that he didn’t have much faith in the four of them as a team. Perhaps there’s a way to work around that, though- Like Allison said, they’re all they’ve got. There’s no other option than for that to be enough, and so Diego decides that that’s _going_ to be enough, with all of the inelegant brute force of someone who lacks faith but possesses stubbornness in abundance. 
> 
> OR
> 
> The four newly-delinquent Hargreeves siblings take a trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! I'm so grateful for the kind comments and kudos on the first installment of this story. Like I said before, it's such a good feeling to be involved in fandom after such a long time away.
> 
> CW for allusions to Klaus's typical methods of self-destruction.

Diego loves his siblings- That he loves them is one of the few unwavering certainties that accompany him through his often painful, always confusing existence. Whether he likes any of them at any given moment is a more complicated matter. 

He likes Klaus, mostly, though more and more often his affection for his brother is accompanied by incomprehension and worry. Allison, he's fond of on rare occasions- More than he _likes_ her, he feels a grudging respect for her, a respect that’s grown marginally less grudging over the last hour. He doesn't like Luther, doesn't like him in a way that’s satisfying to hold onto, as if by _owning_ his dislike he’s reclaiming something his own second-best status doesn't afford him.

(And Ben. Of course he likes _-liked-_ Ben, without complication or caveat. Everyone did.)

Vanya, he's never bothered to classify. Thinking about whether he likes his quiet, ordinary sister would be like thinking about whether he likes the carpet in the dining room; he'd notice if it was gone but what impact would its absence make, either on Diego’s own life or on anyone else's?

Except. 

_Except._ It's because of Vanya that Diego's now enveloped in this little cluster of grief in the darkness of Allison's bedroom, exhaustion and rage having worn through him to the point where he cannot deny that he needs to be part of this. It was Allison who ordered him to join them but Vanya was the one who made space for him, picking up where Allison's willingness to reach out trailed off, and she's a warm, solid presence as she cries into his shirt; Diego’s least thought-of sibling in this moment the centre of his awareness. He clings to her and sobs in a way that he hasn’t since he was a small child, since before he learned that such an outpouring of emotion was unacceptable,. 

None of this is physically comfortable for any of them (except perhaps Luther, on the floor, connected to the rest of them via his hand on Allison’s back); everyone has someone else's knees or elbows jabbing into their side, but eventually an odd pseudo-tranquility manages to descend. Diego is _almost_ drifting off when Luther ruins the closest thing anyone's had to peace since before that final, awful mission, his voice low and steady, saying; "If you're gonna do this, you need to do it _now."_

Allison jerks up. "What the hell do you mean?" she demands in a whisper. "We haven't even talked about how we're going to do this, we need _time,_ " but Luther's shaking his head saying; "No, no, remember your blanket fort? You _know_ Dad finds out about everything that happens in this house; if you're gonna get out, get out _now_ while he's asleep. The longer you wait the harder it's gonna be; I'll cover for you as much as I can but _you need to do this now."_

Diego appreciates a good blanket fort as much as anyone but he doesn’t think he knows about whatever occasion Luther is referring to. He glances his curiosity at Klaus, who shrugs; evidently this is new information to him as well. He doesn’t have time to get annoyed with how even now Allison and Luther’s shared secret history is drawing a ring around the two of them, setting them apart from everyone else, though, because Allison swears and then begins whispering orders: G _et dressed, grab what you need, be careful, be quiet, for fuck's sake, be_ quiet, _meet by the bathroom window in half an hour._ Diego’s prepared for missions with less warning than this and he knows how to prioritise carefully on insufficient information, but when Allison adds that no one is to engage with Grace (”Don’t forget who made her”) she looks directly at Diego and he almost tells her to go fuck herself.

(She catches his arm on the way out of the room and says, “I don’t like it either.” It’s not an apology, it’s not _enough_ , but it’s still more than he would have expected from Allison.)  
  
Diego gets dressed, checking that his various knives are strapped in their proper places on his person taking more time than anything else, shoves clothing into his bag without thinking, rechecks his knives, rechecks them again, wondering why there's not more of a sense of finality about his actions; surely packing up the essentials of his life should feel more… _Anything_ , than this?. When he slips into the kitchen to leave a note - _I’ll miss you, Mom. Love, Diego_ \- he jumps when he realises that someone is already in the room, but relief and gratitude wash over him when he realizes that it's Vanya, Vanya who hates being noticed, Vanya who won’t ask questions or want them asked of her. He sees the sandwich she’s left on a plate on the counter at the same time she notices the paper in his hand, and they look away from one another then leave the room in opposite directions without speaking. 

Diego and his siblings have snuck out of the house through a bathroom window on the ground floor without incident since they were children (though the last time all of the Hargreeves siblings present at the Academy did it together must have been before Five left); Diego’s most recent such excursion only having been two weeks ago, accompanying Klaus to some party in some windowless basement apartment. He didn’t care about the party but he and Ben had quietly decided that wherever Klaus went when he snuck out, he shouldn’t be going alone, had agreed that at least one of them should tag along in case…? Neither of them were sure what that ‘in case’ might encompass, and that void of possibility was in itself cause for worry. 

At the party, Klaus disappeared into a room off the kitchen while Diego lurked outside of the closed door, trying to look menacing, feeling awkward and off-balance and _seventeen_ in a way that was heavy and suffocating and made his stomach clench. After reappearing ten or so minutes later Klaus called out a round of good-byes to people he apparently knew by name and they walked to a park where he retrieved a bag from his jacket pocket and held it up reverently, saying this was going to be the one that worked, it _had_ to be, his new connection was a good guy, he wanted to _help_ , he wouldn’t screw him over like that last asshole...

Diego wonders if he’s up to the task of looking out for Klaus without Ben. Surely his sisters know that something’s wrong, surely they _care_ , but Allison’s method of caring is officious and off-putting and likely to make Klaus back further away from her, while Vanya’s so frightened of the people who know her best that it’s hard to envision her being any use among strangers in grimy basement apartments.

He’s so wrapped up in thinking about this that he barely registers that he’s jumping out the window until his feet hit the ground. Surely this has been too easy, surely they can’t just get out and walk away and…? But they do, the four of them moving down the street in silent unison, their breath visible in the air of the late November not-yet-dawn. At first they just walk without saying anything, glancing at one another to assure themselves that yes, they’re all here, they’re doing this, that none of the hundreds, thousands of things that could go wrong have, at least, not _yet_. It feels too simple, Diego’s brain persists; if it really was a matter of opening a window, climbing out, and walking away, why did none of them ever-

“OK,” Allison says, interrupting Diego’s thoughts. “We’re out, now what’s the plan?”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Klaus sighs. “We’re gonna need one of those, aren’t we?” He keeps rubbing his gloved hands together for warmth, fidgeting with his scarf and the buttons on his coat. Diego can’t help but notice that it’s looser on him than it was only a few weeks ago.  
  
“We are," Allison affirms. "I know we’ve all been awake for close to twenty-four hours but we need something we can work with for now, even if we decide it sucks later and we need to change it. Any ideas?”

“Distance,” Diego says, because he’s still annoyed with her but she’s _right_ ; one of the key features of being Allison's brother has always been that being annoyed with her and her tendency to be right when it really matters coincide with frustrating regularity. 

Allison nods. “Put as much space as we can between us and the Academy before we figure out what’s next?”

Diego and Klaus both murmur their agreement.

“Good,” Allison says. “Vanya? You get to have an opinion, you know.”

Vanya, hugging her violin case to her chest as she walks a half-step behind the others, startles at the sound of her name. “Sorry. Yes. I mean- Yes, that sounds good.” She looks so uneasy at being addressed that Diego wonders if she's been hoping they’d forget she was there and leave her out of any discussion altogether. 

Allison keeps talking, keeps asking questions, and as she does Diego begins to notice the way she’s collating information, refining the rough material her siblings supply into something workable, distracting everyone from their growing exhaustion and anxiety in the process. He only recognises it because Luther’s attempts at doing the same thing have always been so heavy-handed; while Allison does share Luther’s tendency of assuming that her opinions are worth listening to merely by virtue of being her opinions, she's undeniably competent.  
  
They toy with the idea of air travel but quickly reject it; airports are too full of security cameras and chances to be asked for ID, they're still minors, and Allison can only make people forget that they saw them if she knows they've been observed in the first place. They do have a vague idea that bus stations are the refuge of travelers with something to hide, people who won't notice you if you allow them the courtesy of failing to notice them in return, so with no better plan in mind they orient themselves in the direction of the local Greyhound depot. It’s within sight when something occurs to Diego.

"How are we going to pay for stuff? Is Allison going to-"

"I've got it covered," Klaus says immediately. 

Allison raises her eyebrows. "Do you want to share with the class?" Her tone indicates curiosity, rather than judgement or disapproval, but either this doesn’t register with Klaus or he’s so loathe to provide detail that it doesn’t matter; he just says “Not really,” scowling and picking up his pace a little, walking ahead of the group until they’re inside the bus station.

They acquire schedules, half-heartedly debate the merits of various destinations that they know almost nothing about, then abandon that discussion when they realise that there’s a bus leaving in fifteen minutes. Tickets acquired, they claim the back row of seats and to Diego’s relief no one looks at them beyond a cursory glance- Maybe their hunch about bus stations was correct, or maybe it’s simply too early for anyone to care enough about their surroundings to pay attention to four unaccompanied teenagers in matching jackets, eyes raw and red from recent crying.

It's as though they've all suddenly remembered why they're here, why they're doing this, and they end up slumped against one another, promising that they won't fall asleep, they _won't_ ; that to fall asleep here would be to make themselves vulnerable and to make oneself vulnerable is foolish, selfish. Diego’s not worried about himself, Allison, or Klaus, all of them having been trained in withstanding sleep deprivation, but if Vanya's going to be part of whatever this is then she's damn well going to need to try to keep up with the rest of them. That she won’t be able to is inevitable but- What else could they do, where she's concerned? Leaving her behind at the Academy with Luther, the contrast between Number One and Number Seven more apparent than ever with none of the intervals between them there to obscure Reginald's view of her deficiencies, would have been abject cruelty.

Diego leans his head back against his seat, closes his eyes, hears Allison asking what time it is and Klaus answering that it's just before six o'clock in the morning, then the two of them groaning to one another about how in _fuck's_ name it's been less than an hour since they left, how, _how?_

"It was fucking cold of Luther to not even find us to say goodbye before we went," Diego mutters, and immediately, he feels Allison tensing on one side of him, hears Vanya's breath hitch on the other. It takes a moment for his understanding to catch up with his sisters' reactions and when it does he says, "Right. Got it. Were you just not going to mention that? Or?"

"We weren't... _Not_ going to," Klaus says from Allison's other side. "It just didn't come up."

"Right."

"Would you have wanted us to?" Klaus persists. "We kinda figured you wouldn't give a shit."

"I don-"

Diego is cut off by Allison, jabbing both him and Klaus in the ribs with her elbows. "Don't start,” she warns.

"We weren't _starting_ -" he protests.

"Yeah, Diego, you were, and I'm _not_ in the mood for it. From _any_ of you." At that, Vanya closes her eyes and presses against the window, clutching her violin case against her chest.

"Anyway," Allison continues, "I don't want to talk about Luther. At all."

"Fine."

"I'm _serious,_ Diego. The rest of you can say whatever you want about him, just don't say it where I can hear you."

"Great,” Diego says. “I'm glad I have your permission to say what I think, Allison. That means a _whole_ fucking lot."

"You know what? Don't talk to me at all if that's how you're going to be." Allison’s voice is starting to waver. 

Well, shit.

Diego honestly can't remember a time he and Allison have stood in solidarity against Luther, or when Vanya's inclusion in anything has been anything beyond an afterthought; they’d been doing well until now but it's hardly surprising that the cracks in their defiance of the natural structure of their family have taken so little time to form, that what they’ve accomplished together without fighting essentially amounts to having gone for a walk. 

Diego wishes Ben were here. 

Ben wouldn't be _here_ , though. If Ben were alive, they wouldn't be doing this and things would be… Well. Not OK, never _OK_ ; Klaus would still be unravelling and Allison and Luther would still be united in their cold, insufferable superiority and Diego himself would still be grappling with the gaping, angry recklessness gnawing at the edge of his awareness, always demanding that he do _something_ , always refusing to tell him what that _something_ might be. So, not OK, no, but not OK in a way that includes home, familiarity, his mom, _Ben._

Allison has stuck her bag in the space between herself and Diego and now she's leaning against Klaus, not even bothering to hide that she's begun crying again. Klaus puts an arm around her and hisses; "Dude, freaking _apologise"_ over the top of her head, and Diego crosses his arms and maneuvers so that he can lean into his seat, facing away from Allison.

Facing away from Allison means facing Vanya, who releases one hand from its grip on her violin case and reaches for his, but if anyone touches Diego right now, talks to him, he’s going to start crying himself, and he jerks his hand away and hisses "I don't understand what makes you think it's OK for you to do things like that," and Vanya _recoils_ away from him, pressing herself against the window. As quiet as she is, she’s still close enough that Diego can hear her when she begins weeping softly.  
  
Over the next few hours Diego can hear Allison and Klaus whispering to one another, and Vanya doing her best to cry silently but not entirely succeeding, but no one talks to him and he doesn’t attempt to talk to anyone in return. He and his siblings disembark from the bus in the middle of a town that Diego forgets the name of seconds after the driver announces it; the kind of place with roadside produce stands boarded up for the winter and giant red barns next to snow-dusted fields aligning the sides of the roads, the likes of which Diego’s seen in paintings but never really thought of as something that exist in reality. It’s all so fucking _idyllic_ , and he hates it. 

Allison disappears briefly and returns with coffee that no one wants but that everyone drinks anyway, trying to force energy into their systems so they can keep going a little longer, a little farther. It fails to strip any of the exhaustion from Diego’s body but it dulls the edge of the anger he’s feeling toward the world at large and his siblings in particular, so when he notices that Allison and Klaus have begun positioning themselves between himself and Vanya his only thought is _whatever._

They change busses, not paying attention to where the next one is going, then repeat the process again, and again, and it’s dark when Allison suggests that they’ve covered enough ground for one day and everyone concurs. What none of them say is that they can’t take anymore, that they want to _stop_ ; they’re not allowed to just be exhausted, frightened children who want their home and their mother and somewhere safe and warm and comfortable to sleep without interruption. Allison suggests: "Let's- I don't know, let's find the best hotel we can and I'll get them to give us the most stupidly expensive room they have for free?" Klaus murmurs agreement and Diego and Vanya nod, but the nice part of town, if it exists, isn't in easy walking distance from the bus station and after fifteen minutes they spot a motel under an overpass, half the letters in its 'Vacancy' sign struggling to stay alight, and as they all look at each other Diego knows beyond a doubt that in this moment they may be as unified as they’re ever going to get and that the thought they're all sharing is: ‘Fuck it.’

Diego doesn't even take his shoes off once they’re inside their room, just collapses beside Klaus on one of its two double beds, but in spite being so physically spent that moving any part of his body feels like some distant, theoretical concept, his mind is too noisy, too cluttered, and it’s a long while before sleep claims him.

He wakes up the next morning to the sound of Allison and Klaus talking softly to one another on the other side of the room, and sees by the clock on the nightstand that he’s been asleep for over fourteen hours. It still doesn’t feel like enough, but he sits up anyway, muttering a half-coherent “Morning.” 

“Good timing,” Allison greets him. “Vanya’s gone out and we need to talk before she gets back.”  
  
“ _V_ _anya’s_ gone out?” 

“We need supplies and there’s a grocery store down the street. She volunteered. Go shower, we’ve got maybe half an hour and you smell like Greyhound.” Allison picks up a scratchy motel towel, folded on a bedside table, and throws it at him.  
  
“Yeah, and don’t fall asleep with your shoes on again, dude,” Klaus calls after him as he disappears into the bathroom. “You fall asleep with your shoes on, it’s fair game to draw on you. You’re lucky I’m feeling nice; next time you’re gonna wake up with dicks on your face.”

“You made that rule up,” Allison says, and Diego _knows_ from her tone that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this discussion this morning.  
  
“I did _not_ ,” Klaus insists. “It’s like, _literally_ the law or something.”  
  
As he stands under the lukewarm spray of water Diego processes the idea of _Vanya_ volunteering to do something necessary in strange surroundings, tries to think of all the ways it could go wrong. He comes up with nothing, largely from lack of knowledge about how mundane errands actually _work_ , and he for the first time he wonders if his ordinary sister might have somehow acquired at least the beginnings of an ordinary skillset, one that his own status has afforded him the ability to do without. 

He gets dressed in his Academy uniform because he doesn’t have anything else- They’re going to need to do something about this, soon. Diego’s not sure how recognisable he, Allison, or Klaus are without their masks, but the crest proudly announcing his affiliation with the Umbrella Academy to the world can, frankly, go fuck itself. At least, Diego thinks, one advantage of no one knowing or caring who Vanya Hargreeves is is that anyone who notices her coat probably takes her for a sad fangirl.

Diego returns to find Allison and Klaus sitting with forced casualness on the bed where Allison and Vanya slept last night, watching cartoons on the room’s ancient, boxy TV set. He flops down on the opposite bed, arms spread wide. “OK. Let’s talk.”  
  
Allison mutes the TV, once again all business. “Are you gonna take this seriously?”

Diego sits up, grinning insincerely at her. “Look, Allison. This is my taking this seriously face, OK?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. As entertaining as watching you two eviscerate other is,” Klaus says, “we don’t have long and this is important. Both of you, please just chill. Come on now. Take a deep breath, and hold, one, two-.”

“ _Klaus_.” Diego rolls his eyes.  
  
“Do as you’re told.”

It’s so rare for Klaus to take charge like this that Diego feels the only valid response is to comply, and he and Allison take deep, deliberate breaths, eyeing each other warily.  
  
“Good!” Klaus praises. “Another. And another. OK children, are we ready to play nicely now?” Without waiting for an answer, Klaus turns to Diego and says, “Dude. You gotta stop being an asshole to Vanya.”  
  
_Oh_. 

Diego starts to argue that he hasn’t been an asshole but before he even manages to get any words out, Allison says, “Yeah, we’re _not_ doing that. Klaus and I really don’t wanna spend another day running interference so our sister doesn’t have a panic attack whenever our brother gets near her. It’s not fair to her, and it’s not fun for anyone else.”  
  
“Is this the ‘we all need to get along’ talk?” So much for Klaus’s breathing exercises; any semblance of calm has once again begun to dissipate. “I was wondering when this was coming.”

“No,” Allison says. “It’s the ‘We’re all in this together and we’ve gotta have each other’s backs and I have serious concerns about whether you understand that’ talk.” After a moment, she adds, “Asshole.”  
  
“Since when are you so protective of Vanya, Allison?” Diego counters. “It’s not like you've ever gone out of your way to be nice to her.”

"I am _protective_ of her,” Allison says, and from the way she’s almost spitting out her words, Klaus’s efforts at diplomacy were wasted on her as well, “since she was brave enough to take off with us, just like how I'd be protective of Klaus or even _you_ if I needed to be. _Jesus_ , Di."

Allison has a _point_ , damn her, but Diego’s not done arguing. He turns on Klaus -Klaus, who probably doesn’t deserve it, but who can’t be allowed to escape Diego’s anger unscathed, now that it’s been activated. “Hey, what about you? Maybe you haven’t been _that_ shitty to Vanya but you’ve always seemed pretty happy to let it happen when someone else was being an asshole without getting involved.”

Klaus shrugs. “You’re right,” he says, simply. “And now I _am_ getting involved. What are you gonna do about it? Like, listen to yourself dude. Are you arguing for the right to be as much of an asshole to your sister as you want? Each one of us has exactly three other people in the world we can count on right now, and for Vanya one of those three is someone she’s scared of, and who isn’t doing anything to make her any less scared of him. Is that what you want?” He stares at Diego, waiting for his answer, but for once, Diego doesn’t have one, and his silence trails on for an uncomfortably long moment. “Anyway,” Klaus continues at last, “Vanya’s pretty OK, in her own way. You’ve gotta be willing to meet her halfway is all.”

Diego doesn’t necessarily have trouble believing this. What he’s not sure of is what meeting Vanya halfway would look like, whether it’s worth the effort of going even that far to meet in whatever middle ground exists between them. 

Allison nods at Klaus approvingly, leans across the gap between herself and Diego, placing her hands on her knees as she looks him in the face. "Also," she says, "don't tell me you've forgotten what started this already. Do you think Ben would be impressed with how you're acting right now?"

Allison’s right, again, and she knows it, and Diego knows that this won’t be enough for her; she's always been willing to hold being right over people until they're exhausted into submission. And then there's the other thing about Allison, the aspect of being her brother that makes arguing with her ultimately pointless-

"Why haven't you just, you know, _made_ me stop?"

At that, Allison just sighs and rolls her eyes up toward the ceiling as Klaus laughs. "Oh, believe me, I wanted to. _Someone_ asked me not to, though." She prods Klaus in the shoulder. " _Someone_ has this idea that you and I can both be _better than that._ "

"I mean." Klaus shrugs. "It's what I think _Ben_ would have thought. _I_ may or may not be convinced, you’re both pretty terrible when you wanna be.” 

Well, _fuck_. 

"Also-” Allison begins to speak in a rush, as if she’s resolved to say something that she doesn’t necessarily _want_ to say and needs to get out before she talks herself out of it. “I’d kinda prefer if we _could_ get along?” She bites her upper lip and looks at Klaus in a very un-Allison like way, as though asking him for validation that she’s not being stupid, being childish, and he reaches out and squeezes her hand, nodding reassurance.

Diego’s spared from having to say anything in response by the click of a key and a rush of frosty air as Vanya opens the door. Klaus jumps up and hugs her before she’s even had a chance to close it or put down the plastic bags she’s carrying. “VANYA! You survived your trek through the frozen wasteland and we are oh-so-grateful for your heroic efforts. Did you get Pop-Tarts?” He releases her and takes the bags from her, setting them down on the floor while Vanya takes off her coat. 

“Yeah, I did.”  
  
“Oh my GOD Vanya. Blueberry?”  
  
“Blueberry, yeah.” Diego notices how she’s resolutely not looking at him, how she hovers behind Klaus until he moves closer to where Diego and Allison are sitting.  
  
“And did you get the permanent marker like I asked?”

“The permanent marker wasn’t on the list,” Allison says, as though that settles the matter.

“Oh well if it wasn’t on the _list_.” Klaus begins rifling through one of the bags. “Come on, Pop-Tarts- OH FUCK, Frosted Flakes, Vanya, you are the _best_.” Klaus’s exuberance over refined sugar is sincere but lost on Vanya, who still gives off an air of frightened prey, knowing that the best she can hope for is that these predators will get distracted by something else before they pounce on her. 

Allison pats the spot next to her. “Come on, Van. We need to have a family meeting.”

“I thought we just-” Diego starts, but Allison aims a kick at his shin that’s more painful than it strictly needs to be to get his attention and mouths “ _Shut up, dumbass_.”

Klaus sits next to Diego and stuffs several handfuls of Frosted Flakes into his mouth before passing the box to him, and despite Allison’s insistence that they need to talk the four of them spend a few minutes ripping into boxes of preservative-laden cereal that tastes like nothing short of pre-packaged, overly-processed salvation, eating it with their bare hands. 

“OK so,” Allison says, finally. “Meeting time. Unless anyone has any objections?” Her eyes flick over to Diego, who pretends not to notice. “Cool. So like- First order of business. Is anyone planning on taking off and doing their own thing in the immediate future? Because now that we’re out there’s no reason anyone who wants to can’t.” She looks at Vanya, Klaus, Diego in turn.

Diego hasn’t really thought of this until now. Does he want to be done with his siblings, all of them? He _loves_ them all, yes, but is that love enough to make him want to be around them for an indefinite amount of time?

  
“ _No_ ,” Klaus says vehemently.  
  
“No,” Vanya echoes.  
  
“Good,” Allison says. “Me neither. Diego?”  
  
Everyone’s looking at him, now. “No pressure, Di,” Klaus says gently. “No one’s making anyone do anything else.”

What Diego said in Allison’s room the night before last still holds; he’s spent most of the last few days not wanting to be around _anyone_ and the idea of not having to be still feels like a luxury, a luxury that’s gone from distant and theoretical to one immediately his for the taking. He could just walk out the door, severing his last links to the Academy, to Reginald, to that final, horrific mission that took Ben.  
  
But that’s it. Diego may not _want_ to be around any of his siblings a lot of the time but in his moments of weakness he needs to know that he’s not the only one who feels the way he does, the only one who has his reasons for feeling this way. He’s second, in this as in all things, to Luther, who’s made it clear that he doesn’t need the rest of them, but Luther’s not here to observe his defects and neither is their father, and so ( _just this once_ , he swears to himself) he gives himself permission to surrender to mediocrity without a fight. 

“No,” he says. “I said I was in, I’m in.”

“Good.” Allison’s smile is surprisingly genuine. “Next order of business,” she continues. “If we're done with the Academy we need to be _really_ done. No more numbers. No more rankings. None of us have any idea what we’re doing anyway but we’re all on the same team, OK?” 

Vanya’s starting to fade, to shrink into herself in that way that Diego’s not sure is really deliberate but that nevertheless makes it so easy for people to gloss over the fact that she’s there, but- “All four of us,” Allison adds deliberately, and she moves closer to Vanya to link her arm with hers, but it’s Diego she stares at. “We’re all here, and we’re all any of us have got- Agreed?"

Klaus and Diego mutter their agreement. Vanya doesn't say anything, and Allison reaches with her free hand to touch her on the shoulder. "You belong here, Van. OK?"

Vanya nods, without breaking her stare from where it’s fixed on some point on the floor.

"Good." Allison resumes addressing everyone. "I gotta say- How awesome are we? We made it this far. We're kinda badass." She's echoing Diego's own assessment of her back to him, and he recognises it for what it is: An offering, of sorts.

 _Fine_. He’ll play.

" _Super_ badass," he agrees, and Allison smiles to herself in satisfaction.

No one says anything for a few minutes, their focus returned to passing junk food back and forth. When Allison begins to speak again Diego braces himself; there's only so much forcefully earnest _encouragement_ he can tolerate in the space of a single morning. 

"Is it bad," she asks, then stares at her fingernails for such a long moment that Diego thinks she's changed her mind about whatever she's going to say, but then he's struck by how she suddenly sounds _younger_ ; as though she’s no longer monitoring anyone for their reaction, she's not performing at all. "Is it bad that I kind of feel like I could fall asleep again right now?"

Diego doesn't always _like_ Allison but since, as she said, they're all here, they're all any of them have got, he gives her what she needs to hear from someone else in an effort to prove that he’s capable of doing more than stirring up conflict. "Nah, it's not bad. We don't have anywhere we need to be. If you wanna sleep, sleep.”

"OK." And with that Allison releases Vanya's arm and curls up on her side, leaving Diego, Klaus and Vanya looking blankly at one another in surprise. 

That makes it easier for the rest of them. None of the Hargreeves siblings have ever had such an expanse of unstructured time facing them, and overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity, it’s simply easier to not be conscious of the world around them. The four of them pass the rest of the day drifting in and out of sleep, sustaining themselves on supplies from Vanya's grocery run, promising each other that once they get through today they’ll move somewhere more comfortable, more luxurious, take advantage of Allison’s power because if they have no idea what they’re doing from here, surely it might as well be somewhere with room service and a jacuzzi? But they wake up the next morning to discover that the initial momentum of leaving the Academy has not replenished itself, that now that they’ve allowed themselves time to pause the act of moving on from this dreary little safe-haven is, for the moment, too daunting, that no one wants to do much of anything beyond sleep and watch TV and whisper, "This still seems too easy."

Living in such close proximity to his siblings brings to light details that Diego’s never had occasion to notice before He learns that when Allison makes the abrupt shift from poised and collected to sounding like she’s about to cry it means that it’s imperative that someone gently guides her to the conclusion that she needs to rest, and that if that someone is him it’s usually an abject failure, culminating in harsh words and sulking on both sides. From Vanya’s interactions with Klaus, less precise and guarded with him than with anyone else, and very occasionally with Allison, Diego begins to realise that her mind is quick, observant, and restless, and that she has a sense of humour that she rarely exhibits but which is pointed and fluently sarcastic. He notices that once a day, at least, Klaus disappears, refusing to tell anyone where he’s going, that he’s never away long, and that when he returns his eyes are glassy and unfocused and that he cannot or will not answer questions. Once, slumped onto the floor against the door after coming back from one of these excursions he buries his face in his hands and says, “This was supposed to work. I don’t know what to do, anymore.” Diego and Allison, half-watching some nature documentary that neither of them really care about exchange looks- Surely someone should do something, but _what_? But it’s Vanya who puts down the book she’s reading (one of Ben’s favourites, half the pages still sticky with orange juice he spilled on it one careless morning just a few weeks ago) and slides down on the floor beside Klaus, not speaking, not touching him, just quietly _existing_ at his side until Klaus collapses against her and says, “When does everything stop being pointless bullshit, Van?” 

Allison and Diego look at Vanya who nods at them; her message clear: _Be here with us, please._ A few seconds later they’re down on the floor, Diego on Klaus’s side opposite Vanya, Allison facing him, awkwardly patting his knee. 

The last time the four of them ended up like this was pure instinct, desperately clinging to one another in the darkness of Allison’s room, still sick from the bile of Reginald’s speech at Ben’s funeral in the back of their throats. This time it’s deliberate; one of their number is hurting and though Diego and his sisters may not understand what Klaus needs, it’s unacceptable that he should suffer alone.

Taking things on faith has never been one of Diego’s strengths and until now, if pressed, he’d have said that he didn’t have much faith in the four of them as a team. Perhaps there’s a way to work around that, though- Like Allison said, they’re all they’ve got. There’s no other option than for that to be enough, and so Diego decides that that’s _going_ to be enough, with all of the inelegant brute force of someone who lacks faith but possesses stubbornness in abundance. 

After an hour or so of sitting without speaking, without anyone making any sound at all save for someone occasionally shifting to a more comfortable position, Diego realises that Klaus’s and Allison’s breathing has become deep and regular, Klaus still half-laying against Vanya, Allison using his knee as a pillow. Vanya’s eyes are open but she won’t be able to move without disturbing Klaus and though her position isn’t overly cramped or awkward she’s still closest to the door, and consequently the icy draft coming in from under it. “Just getting blankets,” Diego whispers as he stands up. “Want a pillow?” Vanya nods, and he returns a moment later, passing her a pillow before he drapes a blanket over her and Klaus, then another over Allison. He makes another trip back, grabbing a towel, then comes back to stuff it under the door.

He could go now and be marginally more comfortable sleeping on the shitty motel mattress, and it's not like he'd be doing anyone any favors by putting himself through unnecessary discomfort, but when he's honest with himself, Diego just doesn't _want_ to separate himself from his siblings right now. Besides, there's a conversation he wants to have. _If_ Vanya will have it.

He stretches out in the remaining space between Vanya and the door. "Van?" he whispers. "Can we talk?"

Vanya takes so long to answer that Diego thinks she's fallen asleep, that the moment may have passed, but finally she whispers back, "Yeah, OK.”

He shifts, trying to get comfortable on the floor.”Th- This is gonna-” He sighs, tries again. “I'm sorry, Vanya. Re- really, I am. For everything. I get it if you d- don’t want this, but it'd be good to have a shot at _really_ being your brother. If y- If you want."

As soon as the words are out he feels stupid, disgusted with himself for his sentimentality, but he forgets that when the answer comes in the form of Vanya's hand reaching for his, the soft simplicity of her "OK," without hesitation, without condition.

"I'm glad you're here with us, Van," he whispers.

The last thing Diego is aware of before sleep takes him is Vanya whispering: "I'm glad you're here, too."

Diego wakes hours later to Allison yanking his blanket off of him, saying: "I _swear,_ the next time _any_ of you let me fall asleep on the floor when there's an actual _bed_ nearby I will _end_ you." She punctuates this by leaning down to jab Diego in the ribs before she pulls the pillow out from under Vanya's head.

In retaliation, Diego reaches out and grabs her ankle and _yanks_ , pulling her to the floor, saying, "Be prepared to get on my level if you're gonna fight dirty like that Al" and she shrieks and launches herself at him, pulling at his hair, grabbing his ears and twisting, using every obnoxious sibling trick in her repertoire. Vanya backs herself into the corner near them, maintaining her distance from Diego and Allison’s half-playful fight but very cautiously giggling.

"Hey Di?" Allison asks.

"Yeah?"

"I heard a rumour that you went outside and stuck your head in the snow- Oh my God _put your shoes on first you dumbass."_

He’s aware of Allison, Klaus, and Vanya’s faces pressed against the window as he does as Allison’s ordered, and he’s going to _destroy_ her for this, really, he is, but he’s still laughing when he comes back inside and keeps it up through the requisite round of mutual assurances that there will be no apologies _ever_ , on either side.

  
“Anyway,” Allison says. "I was thinking we've been here long enough. Let's get out of this shithole?"

And in the end that's what it takes to break the stagnation that was threatening started to settle upon them, like the four of them no longer need to take great care to move past one another lest they risk shaking the foundations of what they've begun to build in a way it can't recover from. 

"Yeah," Diego agrees. "Yeah, let's do this."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Chapter title comes from the song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juClIfm3bkY ['A New Name For Everything'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juClIfm3bkY) by The Weakerthans
> 
> -Look, I've decided to stop fighting my baser instincts and just let myself be super self-indulgent with chapter titles. Expect quotes from old novels with excessively purple prose, lyrics from pretentious indie rock songs, and other such nonsense.
> 
> -I heavily headcanon Diego as having ADHD -as someone who has it myself- and a lot of his internal turbulence in this chapter is drawn from my own pre-diagnosis experience. (This is neither the time nor place for it, but I'm quite happy to run through my 'Why Diego Hargreeves Has ADHD' Ted Talk, should anyone be curious.)
> 
> -I promise that I haven't forgotten about Luther. He's got his own journey of discovery to go on before he catches up with his wayward siblings, but we WILL find out what he's been up to (Spoiler: Valuing his father's expectations above loyalty to his siblings is very lonely, and very boring).
> 
> -Next chapter: Vanya POV! I'm truly excited to write her. Also: Anyone curious about how life turned out for Sissy in this timeline?
> 
> -You are all lovely, and I'm so glad to be among you.


	3. All Bitter And Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya just laughs fatalistically. God, she thinks, Klaus must be rubbing off on her. 
> 
> "L- Look, I didn't want t- to upset you with what I said about Dad. Just-"
> 
> "You didn't. I mean, I'm upset but it's not your _fault,_ OK?"
> 
> Diego offers her a weak smile. "Blame Dad?" he suggests. 
> 
> "Sounds good to me. Blame Dad for everything, forever."
> 
> The delinquent Hargreeves find a new home base and reasons to celebrate, and Vanya grows more confident in her place in their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to express how happy I am for Elliot Page, who portrays Vanya Hargreeves on The Umbrella Academy, for recently coming to a place in his life where he felt safe coming out as trans and non-binary. 
> 
> On that note, transphobes aren't welcome here. If you're in any way bigoted against transgender individuals (or anyone of any other queer identity), I don't want you here- Fandom and fanfiction are about sharing joy in a piece of media, but I draw the line at wanting to share anything with anyone who actively makes it more difficult or painful for vulnerable people to safely live their lives. 
> 
> To any trans readers- I am but a humble fanfic author, but nevertheless you are welcome and valued here. 
> 
> As far as I'm aware, Elliot is going to continue portraying Vanya as a cisgender woman, though if that changes, I'll be happy for him- It seems like everyone involved in creating TUA alongside him has been supportive, and that's wonderful to see. Vanya is, incidentally, the POV character for this chapter, and it's my plan to continue writing her as a cis girl- I absolutely feel that there's a place for cis allies like myself to include trans characters in their writing, but as a cis woman I also believe that I'm not the right person to tell a coming-of-age story that involves someone transitioning; it would feel inauthentic, and worse, like I was acting as a tourist in experiences that aren't mine, and I'd much rather amplify the voices of people who do have that experience to draw on.
> 
> On a completely different note- This chapter took ages, for which I apologise. Vanya is a difficult character for me to write- I love her just as much as any of the others, but her hesitance and passiveness don't come naturally to me (I think I may be the first person to ever type the sentence 'Dammit, Vanya, why can't you be more like Diego?' and I owe a lot to the ever-lovely and patient people over on the EH Discord.) Life circumstances also got in the way -It turns out that it's really hard to keep one's creative juices flowing whilst one is facing being thrown out of one's home for standing up to one's property managers over their illegal refusal to do anything about the amount of lead that's been discovered in its paint and soil- but I've found a lovely new place to move to, and I have amazing, supportive friends, both online and off, and things are better now than they've been in a while.
> 
> Anyway! Thanks for reading- I love the community this fandom has introduced me to, and I'm so glad to be part of it.
> 
> CWs in this chapter include: Canon-typical mentions of mental illness and medication, discussion of PTSD symptoms (unbeknownst to the characters discussing them), underage drinking, and very brief references to offscreen pot-smoking

Later, Vanya remembers her second week of freedom as time mostly spent following Allison and Klaus around an endless, exhausting array of clothing stores, unsure which of them is worse. Allison traverses malls with the same brutal efficiency that she uses to approach anything once she’s decided it’s necessary; Klaus is more patient than Allison is but the questions he asks are more intimidating- At least 'which one do you like more?' when presented with two jackets, identical except for colour, means Vanya can simply point at random, but Klaus insists on saying things like: "You get to have an _identity_ now! What do you want it to _be?"_

"I don't _know._ Do I _have_ to?" she asks desperately, and Klaus looks at her with a mixture of confusion and concern that Vanya doesn't entirely understand and says, "Oh, Vanny." A second later she’s overwhelmed by the smell of old leather and stale pot smoke as Klaus hugs her, her face is mashed into the shoulder of his thrift-store jacket, hugging back through her confusion.

(Aesthetic, image- They’re important to Klaus in a way Vanya doesn’t really _get,_ but when Diego cornered her and Allison and said; “If anyone gives Klaus a hard time for the skirts or makeup or _anything_ we destroy them, got it?” and Vanya had nodded fervently, so caught up in this sudden unity of purpose that she didn’t even think to be intimidated by the idea of confrontation. Allison had just looked at him and said, “Duh?”)

They stuff their Academy uniforms into a garbage bag and fling it into a dumpster behind a McDonalds. Allison raises her middle finger and Diego spits on top of it, and Klaus is halfway through an impassioned eulogy when a uniformed employee sticks her head out the back door and yells at them. Suddenly, Allison is clutching Vanya's arm and saying, "Move, come on!" and Vanya's letting herself be pulled along- She's the slowest runner in the group but that doesn't matter when Allison starts giggling and it spreads through the rest of them, forcing them to slow down to catch their breath two blocks away. Sunlight is glinting off of the snow on the ground and it’s so iridescent, so bright that it hurts to look at it and the world isn’t safe or easy or kind, it might never be, but for the moment they’ve won, they've _won,_ and her siblings are being loud and obnoxious and undignified and the entirety of existence is _hilarious._

Maybe being their sister is always going to feel like this, Vanya thinks, being pulled along at a pace she can’t quite keep up with, unsure where they’re going, but it feels good, it feels like they want her here, and isn’t that enough? Ever since the morning they slipped out of the Academy she’s been bracing herself for the moment when her brothers and sister realise that they’ve made a mistake in including her, and it hasn’t come, and it’s kept not coming, and it’s only now she begins to allow herself to think that maybe, _maybe_ , it hasn’t come because it’s not _going_ to. 

Sometimes a stranger will double-take and nudge whoever they’re with, their conversation inaudible but obvious all the same- “Isn’t that…?” as they try to pretend that they’re not staring, but then they always seem to shrug and walk away. Even though Vanya has the least reason to fear being recognised she’s poured so much of herself into never committing the cardinal sin of being noticeable that she’s primed to be on the lookout for it happening, so when she spots a gaggle of boys whispering feverishly to one another as they eye Diego, oblivious to their presence while he judges the merits of two different brands of microwave popcorn, she feels the panic that never lets her get very far from its reach trailing its feather-light touch across the back of her neck, not drawing her into its embrace _yet_ but reminding her that it’s there, it’s there, _did you think that if you were quiet enough I’d overlook you, you naive child? When has that ever, ever worked?_

Except, _except,_ of all of the things Vanya’s afraid of -and there are so, _so_ many of them- _anything_ that could result in Reginald finding out where they are is at their apex, and this is the catalyst she needs to achieve something she’s never been able to do before: She tells her encroaching panic: _No_ , and she imbues the warning with so much force that it _listens_. It’s temporary, Vanya knows, any respite is only _ever_ temporary, but all she needs is for it to retreat long enough that she can arm herself with an air of vitality and confidence that she does not feel while she bounces up to Diego and says, loudly: “Michael!”

Diego gapes at her and _just this once_ Vanya wants to snap at him, to tell him to keep the hell up, but instead she grins with so much force that it makes her face hurt as she repeats: “Michael! Remember me? Kate? Kate Ferris?”

“Kate?” Diego echoes blankly.

“From art camp?” Vanya prompts, and finally, _finally,_ Diego gets it and says, “Oh right, _Kate,"_ his voice so saturated with artificial surprise that Vanya is grateful that they’re only trying to fool children who can’t be older than ten. 

Diego laughs as he recounts the incident to Allison and Klaus back in their would-be-expensive-if-they-were-actually-paying-for-them set of adjoining hotel rooms. “I mean,” he finishes, “next time maybe pick something cooler than art camp, Van? But other than that, you kicked ass. 

She holds onto this praise for hours, only half-wishing she could stop turning it over and over in her mind, and it wouldn't hurt, she thinks, it _wouldn’t_ , but there’s something about the way anything complimentary Diego says to her, _about_ her, always carries with it an air of revelation…

She doesn't say anything. Not then, anyway. Somehow, the impossible has begun to solidify into reality and the four of them as a unit have begun to make _sense_ , and Vanya’s not willing to be the one to break that.

The easy comfort in each other’s presence that’s been forming is threatened one afternoon when Allison comes back from what she vaguely referred to as 'errands,' exhibiting that telltale bounce in her step that indicates that she's pleased with herself. "So we're basically rich," she announces, and any peace that may have been developing between herself and Diego shatters when she explains what she’s done.

“I’m not saying-” Diego says from the next room, for at least the fifth time, an hour later. “I’m not saying I have a _problem_ with you going out and using your power to -what was it you said the guy was?”

“A corrupt pharmaceutical executive,” Allison says, sounding politely bored. “He’s a piece of shit. Look, I can show you, check out this magazine arti-”

Again, for at least the fifth time, Diego cuts her off. “The point isn’t how _shitty_ the guy is, the point is that if you’re gonna pull something like that you need to _talk_ to us first. You don’t get to-”

Klaus turns up the volume on the TV, which doesn’t drown them out but at least gives Vanya another sound to focus her attention on. “You OK?” he asks.

Vanya shrugs. She was always aware that Allison and Diego's tolerance of one another was flimsy, even before Ben's death, and maybe it was naive to hope that it could be fortified by a few weeks away from their upbringing. "Should we…” she gestures at the next room, where a fresh round of arguing is beginning, hoping that the answer is _No_ even as she says it.

Luck -or at least Klaus’s lack of willingness to involve himself in what he refers to as ‘Diego and Allison bullshit’- is Vanya’s side. “Oh, _fuck_ no." Klaus shakes his head. "Sometimes those two have arguments where it’s better to intervene, but trust your dear brother when he says that no good will come of trying now.”

“But they’re so-” So what? Angry, bitter, _repetitive_? 

Klaus tilts his head and scrutinises her, and Vanya tenses. “OK," he says, after a moment. "Thought experiment time. Let’s say I go in there and tell them to break it up. What happens?”

“They stop fighting?”

“Oh, Vanya.” Klaus shakes his head. “Sweet, _sweet_ Vanya, _no._ Trust me when I say that _no good_ will come of getting involved in their bullshit now. It's not that martyrdom wouldn't look sexy on me -because it absolutely would- but it's _not_ worth it."

"But-"

"Look." Klaus shifts closer to where Vanya's sitting on the floor, placing one hand on each of her shoulders and looking her square in the eye. Part of her wants to bolt from being at the focus of his attention, even though she finds Klaus as non-threatening as she's capable of finding anyone, even though she has nowhere to bolt _to_. "The best that would happen is I’m stuck listening to Allison bitch about Diego, or Diego bitch about Allison, and you’re saddled with the other one, and they haven’t gotten it out of their systems and they pick up where they left off and it's lather-rinse-repeat _ad infinitum._ No, dear Vanya, better to let them get it out of their systems while we enjoy one another’s delightful company and catch up on cultural milestones that were denied to us.” He gestures at the TV. A series of cartoon landscapes begin to display on the screen, while a young girl narrates their history in voiceover. “Let’s see what wisdom Uncle Iroh has for us, shall we?"

In the end, it's as Klaus predicted. Vanya feels a stab of guilt for not giving him more credit. The argument burns itself out; to Vanya’s astonishment Allison and Diego come back into the room and Allison stands in front of them, rolling her eyes but saying, “I’m sorry. I should have talked to everyone before I did that."

Later that night, lurking around the door of their ensuite while she brushes her teeth and Vanya digs through her bag, Allison says; “I said I was sorry for not talking to everyone first and I _am_ but I’m still not sorry I _did_ it to the guy."

Vanya's not certain whether Allison's confiding this in her because she trusts her or if it's because she correctly assumes that Vanya isn't brave enough to repeat what she’s saying to Klaus or Diego; she's not even sure how much of a _problem_ she should have with Allison’s actions, but she’s just realised that she’s down to her last dose of medication and that now isn’t the time to start pissing her sister off. She waits for Allison to come back into the room, holds out the bottle, and says, “I’m going to need more of these. Can you- Will you help?”

Allison reads the label, and as she does her frown of confusion metamorphosises into concern. “OK,” Allison says. “I don’t know what this is, but-”

“It’s for. You know. Anxiety.”

“Hmmm.” Allison continues to scrutinise the label. “Look I don’t wanna overstep, but…" She looks back at Vanya, and at any other time the kindness in her expression would be welcome, but somehow even _acknowledging_ the medication is prodding at something that Vanya’s mind long-ago labeled untouchable, and she just wants to _stop talking about it_. "Are you sure these help?" Allison asks. "I mean… you’re so jumpy all the time. If you wanna talk to a doctor or something to see if something else might be better…”

Vanya shakes her head. “If there was anything better, Dad would have had me on it.”

Allison makes a contemplative _hmmm_ noise and frowns. "Do Klaus and Diego know about these?"

"Maybe? No? I don't know, really. It's never come up. I mean, I've always been on them…"

"... _Always?"_

"For a long time, I mean. I was maybe four when I started?"

Allison swears softly, and the only thing Vanya can think of is to say, "...sorry."

"What? _Why_ are you apologising? Look. I'll go out first thing, but if you wanna keep talking to a doctor on the table…"

"...Maybe," Vanya says, not because she thinks it's likely that she'll change her mind -she can barely deal with people she _knows_ , involving a stranger in something that feels like she’s committing an act of heresy just by acknowledging is out of the question- but in case this is one of the times when it's easier to let Allison think there's a chance of things going the way she wants them to go. "You don't have to be _part_ of this," she says in a rush. "I mean, I do need more pills, but-"

"What if I _want_ to be part of it?"

After a moment in which Vanya just looks at her sister, unable to answer, feeling overwhelmingly stupid and dull and sure that once again, she’s disappointing someone, Allison sighs and retreats to climb into her bed. 

She’s not sure how much time passes before her sister's voice disrupts her descent into sleep.

"I get it," Allison says. "I wouldn't trust me, either, if I were you."

Allison goes out the next morning and returns before anyone else is awake, with a full bottle of Vanya’s medication and the news that she’s found their potential next destination through overhearing a conversation between a couple in line in front of her in the Starbucks where she stopped for coffee on the way back; some minor celebrity’s assistant’s weekend getaway, newly on the rental market thanks to its owners realisation that using it required time and the desire to be there that she simply didn’t have.

“All ours, if we want it,” Allison says, after finishing her pitch. “It’s not like I _love_ the idea of being out in the middle of nowhere but it’s got a lot of space and there aren’t many people around so Diego can do whatever he wants with knives without traumatising innocent bystanders and Vanya can play her violin, and… Look, I wouldn’t mind not freaking out about being recognised every ten seconds? And maybe it’d be nice to be somewhere quiet. Have a break from, you know, _people_.”

“I told you,” Diego says. “Without the stupid-ass uniforms and stupid-ass masks nobody pays attention to us. You don’t need to freak out; you’re not that interesting.”

And so, two days, a train, a bus, and a fifteen minute walk from what could charitably be called a town later and past the only neighbouring house, a comfortably ramshackle white one with a mailbox bearing the name ‘Cooper’ at the end of the driveway, Vanya and her siblings find themselves standing in front of it; a weathered little two-story house with a wraparound porch and pile of firewood leaning against one of the outdoor walls. It’s barely warmer inside than out, at first, and it’s dark, and quiet; it _feels_ like it’s been still and silent for too long, Vanya thinks, but after half an of turning on lights and heat and and claiming bedrooms, of locating a stereo in a cupboard and desperately searching for a radio station, _any_ radio station, that’s playing something other than Christmas music, Vanya looks around, takes in the old, mismatched furniture, the fireplace where Diego is prodding at a pile of logs and swearing to himself, of the last dregs of winter sunlight illuminating the trees outside, and for the first time it occurs to her that it’s possible to feel affection for a house and not just think of it as a place to _exist_ in.

They realise belatedly that they’ve forgotten to make plans for Christmas, forgotten to decide if they wanted to acknowledge Christmas at all, and so on their first full day there they barely do anything at all and it’s still one of the best days of Vanya’s life. It’s so hard to be afraid of her brothers and sister, she thinks, when they’re like this; wearing pyjamas well into the afternoon, sprawled on a pile of cushions stolen from couches and bedrooms and closets, watching endless rounds of the same holiday specials until they know the words to every last godawful song in all of them and eating nothing but Nutella,straight from the jar, passed around between the four of them. The thought _Ben should be here_ hovers in the back of her mind -it’s loudest whenever Vanya’s most at ease with her brothers and sister- and it’s not fair that he’s not here, it’s _not_ , but just now she loves the family she has left with less complication than she thought possible, and when she falls asleep that night, her entire being permeated with woodsmoke and songs about reindeer and snowmen and grinches swirling in her head, her last thought is that maybe she can make peace with holding onto both of those ideas at once.

Without a schedule beyond Allison’s occasional benign bullying about whose turn it is to wash the dishes, the days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve blend together with a warm, sleepy contentedness. Vanya returns to her violin with something approaching a feeling of penance, at first -she’s barely had a chance to play, since leaving the Academy, and before that she can’t remember the last time she went a day without practicing- spending a few minutes running her fingers over it and whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” before launching into playing with joy; keeping it up for hours and stopping only when Diego knocks on her door and asks if she wants dinner, saying, “You know, I don’t know shit about music, but you’re good.”

_How can you say that I’m good when you don’t know shit about music?_ she wonders, but she follows him down the stairs, still humming to herself, and she says nothing.

Later, she's reading on the pile of cushions that seem to have become a permanent fixture in front of the fireplace, with Klaus a few feet away, unsure whether he’s awake, when he resolves the question by rolling over to face her. “You know," he says, as though he's continuing a conversation rather than breaking a half-hour's silence, "sometimes I wonder if you don’t hate all of us and you’re just really good at hiding it.” 

Vanya's not bothered by Klaus's conversational idiosyncrasies; there’s generally a sort of internal logic to the things he says and does and he's not so very hard to understand with proper context and with willingness to make an effort, and she thinks she's begun to feel a sort of understanding forming; a silent accord between the two family disappointments to look out for one another to the best of their dubious abilities that started on their last night at the Academy, when they drank to Ben’s memory and whispered to one another in the darkness of Allison’s bedroom.

The looming spectre of her father's ridicule speaks, then: _You've never been capable of offering anything of value to offer your siblings before, Number Seven, what on earth has possessed you to think that can change_? but she looks at her brother, hollow-cheeked and perennially exhausted, the remnants of yesterday's makeup making his eyes look enormous, almost ethereal, and- 

She's not brave enough to tell Reginald, even the _idea_ of Reginald to fuck off (no matter how much she wants to and oh, _God_ she wants to) but while the thought of what he'd say if he could see her is _almost_ enough to paralyse her, Klaus is _here_ and Reginald is _not_ , and a protectiveness that's been lying dormant for years, for her entire life, maybe, begins to bubble under the surface of her ever-present fear and hesitation, as though having something to feel protective _of_ is what was needed to activate it. 

"No," she says, "I _don't_ hate any of you."

"You could, though,” Klaus says. “I'd hate us, if I were you."

This isn't a new consideration, and the thought that follows, that she's not sure whether _not_ hating them is a matter of conscious choice or lack of conviction, isn't new either. Still, the casual way Klaus is offering up the possibility of hating their brother and sister, of hating _him_ , makes something inside of her clench in a way that she can’t overlook, and she says, "Well. I don't."

What she doesn't say, doesn't see the _point_ in saying, is that she was close to hating them, all of them, on the day of that wretched excuse for a funeral, close to indulging in the satisfaction of something she'd flirted with but hadn't yet committed to. Five was gone, Ben was dead, and her relationships with the rest of them were marked with indifference, at best. Hating them would be easier than the confused blend of affection and gratitude and resentment she feels now, but they’d looked at their situation, _her_ situation, and they had said _enough_ , and they’d folded her in amongst themselves, and here she is: Hiding from the world, mourning one brother and keeping up her vigil of silent worry for two more, and still, somehow, feeling safer than she ever has in her life. Vanya knows that Allison's regular reminder - _we're all we've got-_ is meant to be cautionary, but to her it feels like reassurance- The three of them, these siblings she was so close to despising but who threw her off-course _just_ when she was about to cross that line, they're the _only_ people she has to contend with. 

Something about laying here, the lazy warmth emanating out of the fireplace and the knowledge that there are only three people around for hundreds of miles who know or care who Vanya Hargreeves is and that none of them are her father makes it easier to speak candidly about something that’s been weighing on her mind. “I thought Diego hated _me_ , for a while. But…” 

This is still uncharted territory, though, and she only feels safe enough to take a few steps into it. Her siblings complain about one another freely, to each other and to her (Diego in particular seems determined to bond with her by bitching about Allison), but she’s shied away from anything that could even accidentally be interpreted as doing the same thing herself- For all of their insistence that she’s one of them none of them feel the need to offer that assurance to anyone else, and that in itself marks her as _other_. She turns her head to look at Klaus, trying to gauge how badly she might have misstepped, but he just says,”Oh, Vanny,” and reaches out to tuck a loose piece of her hair behind her ear, smiling fondly as he does it. “The thing about Diego is that the dude’s not that complicated. Once you’re in with him, you’re in.”

“And I’m in?” she asks, wondering where the fine print is, the inevitable _no, you are not, and you never will be._

“ _Yeah_ , you’re in. You have been for a while. Doesn’t mean he won’t throw a tantrum at you sometimes, but he does that to everyone.” Vanya’s mulling this over when Klaus adds, “Doesn’t mean he has to be in with _you_.”

Klaus never goes long without initiating physical contact with someone if they don’t do it first, as if he needs a counterweight to the things that only he can see, needs to tether himself to the physical world. Vanya rolls over so that she’s close enough to rest her head against Klaus’s shoulder, closing her eyes as she feels his arm go around her, drawing her close enough that she can hear the rhythm of his heart, wondering idly if she’s not as touch-starved as he is.

“I never said thank you,” he says, after another period of sleepy silence. “For that night. At the motel. I guess… This is me saying it now. Thank you.”

“How’s it going?” Vanya asks. “With everything not being hopeless bullshit?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

Klaus starts to say something, then goes quiet. Finally, after a long moment in which Vanya begins to wonder again if he’s awake, he says; “Enh. You know how it is. At least no one’s ever gonna lock me in a mausoleum again, so how bad can anything else be?”

For a second Vanya wonders if this is one of Klaus’s typically tasteless jokes, but no, there’s none of his bouncy bravado overlying what he’s saying, just subdued, vulnerable honesty. “Holy shit,” she says, then, “holy _shit_. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t _know_.”

“How could you? I never told you.” 

“OK, but- In a _mausoleum_? Klaus, _why_?”

  
  
“Exposure therapy," Klaus says.

“You mean-”

“Mmmm.” Klaus moves one of his arms, adjusting their positions so that he can play with Vanya’s hair. “Well-adjusted, pleasant people don’t tend to stick around as ghosts, see. A lot of them just want someone to scream at, and they don’t give a shit if that person’s only eight years old.”

“How was _that_ supposed to make you less afraid of them?” 

“Fuck knows. Maybe the entire point was to just make me stop whining about them.”

This makes an appalling amount of sense, considering Reginald’s need for his children to be competent, or, at the very least, compliant, and Vanya feels her understanding of her brother’s existence begin to rearrange itself. She’s never had any illusion that Klaus’s power is anything less than horrifying, but she’s also assumed that having a power, _any_ power, being part of the team, would have made up for that. 

_Surely_.

It’s too much to think about, for now, so she focuses on holding onto Klaus, trying to convey the message with her presence; _I am here, you have me, you have all of us, he won’t hurt you again, I’m here, I’m here._

  
  
  


Vanya extracts herself from the pile of cushions and the tangle of Klaus’s limbs as carefully as she can when she wakes up the following morning, so early that the sun hasn’t yet risen and the embers from last night’s fire are casting a peaceful glow over her brother’s face. She sits there, watching him, last night’s promises still playing in her mind; _I’m here, I’m here_.

Klaus doesn’t refer to this conversation again, and so neither does Vanya, but the desire to anchor him, protect him, doesn’t diminish, nor does she try to convince herself that it’s futile.

On the last day of the year, Vanya returns to her room, violin in hand, after playing on the porch until temperature, dropping steadily throughout the day finally drives her inside. The sound coming from across the hall is so soft that she wonders if she heard it at all, but only for a second- Vanya’s no stranger to trying-to-be-silent crying.

Allison's given no indication that she's in a crying mood today or… Any day at all, since the day of that first, hateful Greyhound trip, sobbing against Klaus even as the two of them formed a barrier between Vanya and Diego. It’s none of Vanya’s business, though; Allison does things on her own terms and if she's shut herself off from the rest of them it's because she _wants_ to be shut off, but-

_Really_? something in her says. _How many times did_ you _cry alone in your room, wishing someone would give a shit?_

_That's_ me _though,_ Vanya argues desperately. _Allison's different she-_

_-She’s_ _stronger than you are? Is that what you were going to say?_

_Isn't she, though_?

_Then how bad does whatever this is have to be_?

It's a strange feeling, Vanya thinks, calling bullshit on her own thoughts, and he doesn’t necessarily want to do what she’s about to do, but- It’s not as if she has a choice, is it? And if she _does_ , how can she let herself be the kind of person who’d make any choice other than the one she knows she’s going to make?

When she knocks on Allison's door the answer comes before Vanya even has a chance to speak, a vehement " _No_."

"OK," Vanya says, and moves to retreat to her own room, but then Allison's door opens. ‘

"Vanya?" 

Vanya turns to see Allison, half-visible through the crack in the door. "Hey."

"Can you…" Allison's voice falters. "I guess you can come in? If you want?"

Vanya's not sure she does want to come in, but she knows things about Allison now that she didn't a month ago, and one of these is that this is the closest her sister is ever going to come to _asking_ anyone for anything when she's upset. "Yeah, sure," Vanya says. "If you want me to?"

Allison doesn't say anything, just moves back from the door, leaving it open. Vanya takes this as an indication that she should come in, closing the door behind her.

Allison looks terrible. Her hair's in the same ponytail it was in yesterday, judging by its level of unkempt deterioration, and her cheeks are shiny with tears and snot, her eyes puffy and red. She sits down on the floor, halfway between the door and her bed, as though she can't be bothered making it to her bed or the chair against the wall. She hugs her knees to her chest,takes a deep breath, and- "Sorry," she blurts.

"Why?" Vanya asks carefully, choosing a spot on the floor, close enough to reach out but not so close that she feels she's encroaching on Allison's space, hoping that she’s calibrated correctly.

Allison shrugs. "I don't know?” she asks. “I'm not supposed to be… Like this?"

"Like what?"

"Oh God, I don't even know." Allison exhales, a pent-up breath of confused frustration. "You'd think if someone chose _Dad_ over us it'd be easier to just hate them?"

_Oh._

"I mean." Vanya is suddenly _very_ conscious of Allison's edict that no one is to mention Luther in her presence so she aims to remain in the realm of the hypothetical. "You'd have to have cared about that person a lot to have it hurt that much. And I’m pretty sure you can’t just turn hating someone on like that, just because it’d be easier."

Allison just stares at a fixed point on the wall. Her voice is still wavering but now there’s an edge of anger as well as she says: "I shouldn't even be... I said I didn't want anyone to talk about… _You_ know. It's stupid if _I_ can't stick to that rule."

"If you want to talk about, you know. Anything," Vanya ventures, "No one else needs to know."

Allison’s silence stretches for so long that Vanya begins to wonder if she missed some kind of signal, if she's been dismissed, but at last she says, "Fuck him, you know? _Fuck_ Luther. What the hell kind of leader doesn't stick with his team, after what happened? How could he _agree_ with dad? I know you weren't there but what happened wasn't because we didn't try hard enough, Van, it _wasn't_."

Comprehension begins begin trickle in, filling the cracks in Vanya's understanding of her sister. Until now the thought that it was apparently so _easy_ for Allison to cut Luther off frightened her; the two of them had been a unit unto themselves, elite, unencroachable. "I don't know," she says. She _doesn't_ understand why Luther made the choice he made, but nothing about Luther, the most distant of all of her siblings, was ever _for_ her to understand. He was always the one who neither showed her any particular cruelty nor offered any notable kindness; she was afraid of him but only in the general sense that she was _-is-_ afraid of most people, most of the time. She's worried about him, since leaving -the idea of _anyone_ being alone under Reginald's authority is enough to make Vanya panicky if she thinks about it for too long- and she remembers the desperation, the sadness in his voice the last night they were around each other, the way he said "There's probably no point in asking you to-" before Allison had cut him off, saying, " _Don't_ ," as he'd hugged her goodbye. Vanya would say she was disappointed in him, but the idea of her, _Vanya_ , being disappointed in _Luther_ , is absurd, at least as absurd as the worry she's felt- The last thing that could matter to him would be _her_ disappointment, and the last thing he could ever need would be _her_ concern for his wellbeing.

_(Is_ Luther OK, though? Is he? Does it matter, _should_ it?)

"Fuck this," Allison says. " _Fuck_ this. I've been like this all day; I need to do something else.”

“What do you wanna do?”

Allison hesitates.

“Or I can go, if you-”

“ _No_. I mean, please don’t.” Allison bites her lower lip, then seems to come to a decision. “Hey. Wanna help me dye my hair?"

"I _can_ ," Vanya says dubiously, "but I've never dyed hair before. I'd have no idea what I was doing. Wouldn't Klaus be better for-"

"You'll do fine; between the two of us I think we're smart enough to follow instructions on a box."

"Do you have dye?"

Allison jumps up and begins rifling through the top drawer of her dresser. She triumphantly holds up a box a moment later. "I've always wanted purple hair," she says, and for the moment she's just so… Un Allison-like, so unconscious of the image she’s projecting, cautiously inviting Vanya to share her excitement, and Vanya begins to feel herself getting caught up in it in spite of herself.

"OK," Vanya says. "But if I fuck this up-"

"If you fuck it up you can blame me for asking you in the first place. Look- Maybe this is stupid, but- Do you ever feel like you're still there? Even though you _know_ you're not? Or like, you're just doing whatever and suddenly you're terrified that you're gonna end up back there even though you _know_ that's not going to happen?"

"Yes," Vanya says, because she has. 

"I need to _not_ feel like Number Three right now, OK? Number Three didn't get to do what she wanted with her hair because Number Three didn't get to have a _personality_."

Vanya nods. “In that case,” she says, “I would _love_ to help you not feel like Number Three.”

She’s applying developer cream to Allison’s hair when Allison, lulled into a meditative silence and maybe, like Vanya, feeling a little light-headed from the chemicals in the air, says, “Hey Vanya?”

“Hmmm?” 

"Can I ask you a question?"

Allison doesn't usually ask permission; she _acts_ and apologises later, _if_ it occurs to her, _if_ it's convenient for her. "I… Sure."

Allison fidgets in her seat, stares at her hands, then asks, “How do you know if you’re a good person? I mean, not you specifically. How does _anyone_ know if they're a good person?"

“Hmmmm," Vanya stalls. 

"Hmmmm?"

"I guess maybe I haven't thought about it all that much?" Vanya asks.

Allsion stares at her own reflection in the mirror, at Vanya, fussing with her hair. "I've been thinking about it,” she says.

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. I can’t really come up with anything. I can’t let it go, though.”

Vanya continues applying developer, waiting to see where this is going. Instead of continuing the thread, however, Allison veers off in another direction entirely, "When was the last time we hung out? Just us?- Oh God," Allison grimaces at Vanya’s reaction. "OK. I know that look. That's the Vanya Hargreeves 'I want to say something but I don't think I'm allowed to' look."

"...Am I that transparent?"

"You're not transparent at all, really," Allison says, "But you can't live cramped up in hotel rooms with me for a month and not expect me not to recognise it.”

She doesn’t want to talk about it, but she’s more-or-less stuck here, she thinks, having committed to helping Allison with her hair and not having finished the job yet. "We were twelve," Vanya relents. "We painted each other's nails. Diego found me later and told me that you'd only asked me because you were mad at everyone else, for some reason, and you _really_ wanted to drive the point home. Make them feel bad, you know, because you wanted to hang out with me and not them."

"Oh. Oh _shit_ ,” Allison says. “I remember that.” She hesitates, then- “Is it too late to say I'm sorry?"

"...I don't know. We were _twelve_ , so…"

"No, you know what? I'm sorry." Allison shakes her head. "Oh, you wouldn’t know what happened after that. I couldn't find my nail polish remover and Dad saw my nails were bright pink and the chewing out I got about _image_... “ _if you put half the effort into training that you do into such frivolities, Number Three…”_

“Yeah, about that nail polish remover,” Vanya says, because why _not_ be honest, now that she’s started? "Five stole it and brought it to me so I could use it on my nails before Dad saw. He said he wouldn't blame me if I, you know. _Happened_ to misplace it before he could get it back to your room."

To Vanya’s relief, Allison just laughs. "That little shit! You know what, good for him. Good for _you_. I totally deserved that."

"...Maybe,” Vanya allows, even though at the time she’d thought exactly that, had held onto her satisfaction at getting Allison into trouble to the extent that even Five had seemed unsettled by how _gleeful_ she was.

"Maybe? _Vanya!”_

"OK, you _absolutely_ deserved it. But… I knew what was gonna happen so that probably wasn't a _great_ thing to do?"

"It's what I would have done."

"Mmmm." Vanya doesn’t doubt this, but she doesn’t want to say it; she doesn’t think they’re there, not yet.

"You were always his favourite," Allison says. "Five's, I mean."

Vanya shakes her head, trying not to blush. "I wasn't _allowed_ to be anyone's favourite."

" _Vanya_. Do you think _Five_ gave a shit?"

Five _wouldn't_ have given a shit; it was part of why she’d admired him so much, and a large component of why it confuses her, even now, that he’d seemed so drawn to her, Vanya, who was incapable of not giving a shit what everyone else thought with every waking moment. “...That's a fair point,” she concedes, then; “Do you ever think about what happened to him?"

“I like to think he's off having adventures. 1920s Speakeasies. Dinosaurs. Seeing the Beatles live. I mean, it's _Five_ so it'd probably be something way nerdier and angrier than anything I'd come up with; I loved him but I don't know if I ever really _got_ him like you did, you know? What do you think?"

Vanya frowns. "Honestly?"

"Honestly.”

"It's not something I like to think about. It just doesn't make any sense that he wouldn't come back to us unless he _couldn't_."

"Mmm." Allison appears to turn this over in her mind. "He always thought Dad was full of shit. Drove Luther up the fucking walls, but he was useful enough that he could get away with things some of us couldn’t. And he _knew_ it."

Vanya's been scraping the sides of the plastic container, but she’s finally run out of developer. "I think I'm done. Or as done as I can get. We've gotta wait.”

“OK,” Allison says. “Oh Jesus, this stuff smells awful, doesn’t it? I’m having fun, though.”

“Me too.”

“Yay sisters?”

“Yay, sisters,” Vanya agrees.

At the end of the process, Allison has purple hair that she can’t stop touching, even when she’s not near a mirror, and somehow, despite all of the precautions they took with gloves and vaseline Vanya’s hands and Allison’s neck and forehead are stained with dye, and they’re laughing about it when Klaus’s voice carries up the stairs. “One hour left in 2006, bitches! Time to say auf wiedersehen to this motherfucker of a year!”

When 2007 dawns Vanya is giggling, dizzy from the wine that Klaus unearthed from a cupboard in the kitchen and from Diego impulsively picking her up and spinning her around, shouting, “Fuck off, 2006, fuck off!” She laughs, and laughs, and drinks more and shouts along to the music Klaus has been playing “- _I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me_!” when everyone else does. She brings out her violin, at Allison’s request, and stumbles badly through a few classical pieces before switching over to even worse renditions of the pop-punk songs Ben had loved and that she'd learned for the sheer pleasure of having at least one skill that could be called upon to make someone else happy, and Klaus and Allison dance, wildly and uninhibited, half-falling over one another. Somehow, they manage to coax Diego into join in and then Vanya herself, once she puts her violin down and Klaus resumes his DJing duties.

At three o’clock in the morning, they’re drinking hot chocolate in the kitchen, copied from Grace’s recipe as best their memories will allow. They toast to 2007, to their newfound teenage delinquency, to themselves, and finally to Ben, growing quiet, then, and Vanya knows without having to be told that they’re all thinking the same thing; _He should be here with us._

"I have a theory," Diego says, eventually. They’re all winding down, Vanya thinks; every few minutes someone yawns or says “Fuck it, I’m _tired_ ,” but no one’s willing to break their tipsy little circle apart to go to sleep, not yet.

"No," Allison says. "A theory means you _thought_ about things. Try again."

"Fuck off, Allison,” Diego says, but there’s no sharpness there, no venom, just a tolerant, affectionate sort of exasperation. “Just when I was starting to think you weren’t a _completely_ insufferable bitch…” Allison, sitting between Diego and Vanya, elbows him. “Ow,” he complains. “Anyway. Look, it's about Vanya, and… I _swear_ I'm not _trying_ to upset you, OK, Van?"

"Did you know that you can just _not_ say stuff?" Allison asks. "Especially if you know it's going to upset people? Like, are you aware that that's _actually_ an option, Diego?"

" _Allison_ ," Vanya says. 

Everyone looks at her in surprise. She doesn't _like_ it, being at the centre of attention like this, but she squares her shoulders and sits up to her full height, which only serves to make her painfully aware of how tiny she is, compared to the rest of them. Still, she doesn’t shrink back down into her seat.

"So like. Dad… _bought_ all seven of of us because he thought we were gonna turn out special, yeah? So why would he bother keeping one kid who was ordinary around?” Diego asks. “If that kid didn’t fit into the plan, why not ship her off somewhere else as soon as that became obvious?”

Vanya sits very still. A moment passes, and she realises that she’s been holding her breath.

"Think about it. You've got a bunch of kids who hate their lives but at least they're not _ordinary,_ and you make sure they know that being _ordinary_ is the worst thing you can be by keeping another kid around and never really letting her be _part_ of the group but making sure everyone can see that she's miserable. You threaten the other kids, like, ‘Oh, you find your training excessive? Perhaps Number Seven’s position in our family is one you find enviable?’ You make her life something none of the others want so whatever you do to them, at the end of the day they tell themselves that at least they're not like-"

Vanya inhales deeply. Klaus moves his chair closer, places a hand on her arm.

"Diego," Allison says. "Diego _shut up._ Can't you see you're upsetting her?"

" _Stop_ ," Vanya says, an edge of hysteria rising in her voice. She turns to Allison. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here."

Allison looks down at the table. "Sorry, Van, I-" she shakes her head. "Sorry."

"Go on," Vanya tells Diego. "I want to hear this." She looks at Klaus, then hesitantly moves to rest her head against his shoulder. His arm goes up around her.

"What I'm saying is," Diego begins again, "what if Dad _always_ knew you were ordinary?"

"You mean," Klaus says, "what if he kept one ordinary kid around and made a big _thing_ about how terrible it was that she didn't have any powers so the rest of us would be like 'well that sucks, guess I better try as hard as possible to not be like her?' You think Vanya was just… A living example of his godawful manipulative bullshit?"

"Yeah," Diego says. "Exactly. Look, Vanya, you're _smart_ and you're good at thinking on your feet and you get shit done without needing to stand around arguing about it for six hours first (here, Allison snorts and mutters "that's rich, coming from you") "and a lot of the stuff dad made us learn wasn't stuff you need superpowers to be able to do. If you adopted seven kids hoping for powers and made a big deal about needing to adapt, why wouldn’t you _adapt_ by having the one kid without any still be part of the team? There were ways it could have worked. Unless you were really never meant to be one of us at all and being disappointed that you didn’t turn out to have a power like the rest of us was an act.”

This is, Vanya thinks, something akin to blasphemy, and part of her is worried that their father is somehow going to _know_ what Diego's saying and that the repercussions will be _dire_. She was never part of the team _because_ she was ordinary, that was the _point-_ No matter how smart she was, no matter how hard she worked, it wasn't enough, _could_ never be enough, and to suggest otherwise is _dangerously_ close to saying that her lack of powers is irrelevant, or that she has assets that make her as valuable as any of the others, and if that's true, what other foundations that she's always trusted as being unshakeable are more precarious than she realised?

"God," Allison says, then, "that's _fucked up."_

"It _is_ fucked up," Vanya says. Her eyes are closed tightly, and maybe if she doesn't open them it won't be as obvious that she's struggling to not cry. She feels Klaus’s hold on her tighten so it's probably obvious anyway, and she’s grateful for the gesture, furious that it's so obviously called for.

"Look, I'm sorry, I'm- It was just a thought," Diego says.

"No," Vanya shakes her head. "It's fucked up and I think it's probably true. It would have been _so_ easy to find an ordinary baby that someone didn't want and-" 

_This_ hurts. The idea that someone wouldn't want to be part of whatever giving birth to a child they hadn't been pregnant with hours earlier entailed makes sense to Vanya; it's grotesque, the idea of buying children -Vanya can't really picture what a _normal_ upbringing in a normal family would like but she's confident on this point- but for all the distaste surrounding it, the glamour of being part of the Umbrella Academy was meant to be more compensation than any child could reasonably ask for, regardless of their origin. Vanya wasn't entitled to that compensation, and it was her responsibility to ensure that she didn't make that -or any other aspect of her existence- anyone else's problem. 

"That's-" Klaus sounds a little stunned. "That's _actually_ evil."

_"Klaus,”_ Vanya says, _“this_ is what makes you think that he's actually evil? He locked you in a mausoleum.”

"He _what?_ " Allison asks, sounding almost incredulous. "He fucking _what?"_

Vanya is dimly aware that she's said something she shouldn't have, and when she opens her eyes Klaus has closed his own and he’s drawing in long, shallow breaths.

“Klaus-” Diego says.

"Not now," Klaus says. 

“Klaus-” Vanya tries.

" _Not now._ We can talk about this later, OK? I'm not mad. I just… Not now, Vanya, OK?" 

"OK," Vanya says.

Klaus releases Vanya, stands up, announces, “I'm going to bed," but on the way past Vanya he stops and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Love you, Vanny," he says quietly, before disappearing up the stairs.

Left alone with Allison and Diego, Vanya says; "Did you really not know-"

"No," Allison says. “Any of us talking about anything like that to each other… It’s kinda new.” 

"Hey Vanya?" Diego asks.

"Yeah?"

"D- Don't go beating yourself up about this, OK?"

Vanya just laughs fatalistically. _God_ , she thinks, Klaus must be rubbing off on her. 

"L- Look, I didn't _want_ t- to upset you with what I said about Dad. Just-"

"You didn't. I mean, I'm upset but it's not your _fault_ , OK?"

Diego offers her a weak smile. "Blame Dad?" he suggests. 

"Sounds good to me. Blame Dad for everything, forever. Look, I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

She can hear Allison's and Diego's voices in the kitchen as she brushes her teeth, the odd word filtering through- " _Mausoleum, Dad, fucked up,_ " from Diego, _"I swear, never-ever-ever_ ," from Allison, and she can still hear them once she's in bed, cataloging the sounds around her as she falls asleep- The wind outside, an owl calling into the night, the soft creaking as the old house settles, her brother and sister talking softly- Just talking, Vanya thinks, their voices fierce and insistent but without the animosity or bullshit dominance posturing that so often characterises Allison's and Diego's interactions.

When she finally stumbles down the stairs, morning is verging into afternoon. Her brothers and sister are gathered around the TV, Klaus slumped against Allison, resting her chin on top of his head, Diego sharpening one of his knives- Whether they really need as much care as Diego devotes to them or it’s the ritual itself that’s the point of the exercise, Vanya’s never been sure, but he’s more at peace when he’s performing it than he is at any other time and she’s grateful to see it now. 

Diego jerks his head over, a _come here_ motion. Cautiously, she joins him on the couch. “Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” Diego says and Klaus, without looking up, raises a hand in the air and offers a wave that’s lacking in energy but encouraging nonetheless- At least he’s acknowledging her. 

Allison tilts her head back so that she’s looking up at Vanya, above her on the couch. “You doing OK?”

Vanya shrugs.

“Yeah,” Allison says, “I figured. But what we talked about last night- Diego’s theory- If it’s true, it doesn’t _change_ anything, OK? You’re our sister. We need you.” 

Vanya just nods, not trusting herself to speak. 

“I had an idea,” Diego says, “about you. Being dangerous. I think you could, if you wanted to.”

“What?” Vanya says, finally trusting herself to speak without crying. “I’m not dangerous.”

“But you _could_ be,” Diego insists. “I could help. If you wanted. It’s fucked up that Dad didn’t even let you learn to defend yourself, you know? Maybe…” his burst of energy seems to falter. “Maybe let’s talk about it when I don’t feel like a rat is trying to claw its way out of my skull.”

“Mmmm,” Vanya says. In theory, she feels like she should be intrigued by the idea, but- Not now. She should get up, she thinks, she should do something about the pounding in her head and devote some time to her violin, to talking to Klaus about last night, but for now, the company of her siblings, riding out the wretchedness of their own hangovers while they hide together from the world, is enough.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my friends E and V, who let me bounce ideas off of them, and thanks again to the EH community. I love you all.
> 
> The name 'Kate Ferris' is a totally self-indulgent reference that I'm not expecting anyone who didn't go through a phase where they were into delightfully plotless old novels about girls going off to college and engaging in Shenanigans to get- It's the false name the protagonist in one of my favourite examples of the genre uses to troll her friend who's managing the sign-up sheet for a club. [When Patty Went To College](http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21639) can be read for free on Project Gutenberg, which is a treasure-trove of books that have entered the public domain.
> 
> The cartoon Vanya and Klaus watch while waiting for Allison and Diego to get over themselves is Avatar: The Last Airbender, which was still releasing new episodes in 2006/early 2007, when this chapter takes place.
> 
> The song the kids sing on New Year's Eve is [This Year by the Mountain Goats](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ii6kJaGiRaI&ab_channel=TheRealMufflon), anthem of queer, traumatised youth everywhere since its release in 2005- You can't convince me that teenage Vanya and Klaus wouldn't both vibe with it! It's also the source of this chapter's title. 
> 
> I know I promised Sissy and didn't properly deliver- This chapter was getting _long_ and I had to make some decisions about what might be better served by being included later. Rest assured, she's around.
> 
> Klaus POV, next, and then- Well! There are two other living Hargreeves siblings and a time-travelling assassin-in-training out there, so. We shall see!

**Author's Note:**

> -This work's title 'But Maybe (Lullaby of Cautious Optimism)' comes from the [song by the same name](https://creepingdoubts.bandcamp.com/track/but-maybe-lullaby-of-cautious-optimism) by Jessica Best and the Creeping Doubts
> 
> -This is my first foray into writing fanfiction in almost a decade. It feels damn good to be back.
> 
> -Many thanks are owed to my friend V for encouraging/enabling me and allowing me to bounce ideas off her.


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